


Pirate Scum

by RobberBaroness



Category: Black Sails
Genre: Consensual Non-Consent, F/M, Foreplay, Light Bondage, Roleplay, Trick or Treat: Treat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-13
Updated: 2020-10-13
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:20:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26989687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RobberBaroness/pseuds/RobberBaroness
Summary: Eleanor isn't a trembling maiden held captive by a pirate, but she can act like one.
Relationships: Eleanor Guthrie/Charles Vane
Comments: 3
Kudos: 8
Collections: Trick or Treat Exchange 2020





	Pirate Scum

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Germinal](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Germinal/gifts).



Was he the one responsible for this situation? Was she? It was hard to determine actual responsibility. In a fit of rage, Vane had growled that if she was to call him a monster, he might as well be one, and fuck her like the captive innocent she pretended to be. Eleanor had looked him in the eye and said, “Do it, then. At least this way I’ll still be able to hate you afterwards.” And then she had walked away towards her room, stopping just outside the door to look back at him. And he had followed her. And here they were now.

Pirates knew their ropework, Eleanor would acknowledge that. And Vane pulled the cord around her arms tight enough that she could not slip through them but not so tight as to hurt. It was simply his way to do nothing in half-measures, whether in play or in practice. It was both what she appreciated about him when it meant stalwart defense of her honor, and what constantly infuriated her when it meant an inability to compromise.

“You’ll get no ransom for me,” she said. “Father wouldn’t pay so much as a shilling for my return.” Eleanor didn’t try to sound fearful, but almost childishly defiant. If she really had been captured by a pirate in her innocent days, that was surely how she would have acted, no matter that it might get her killed.

Vane gave a low chuckle, and she almost- just for a moment- felt a real thrill of fear.

“I think you misunderstand your situation,” he said. “You’re not a hostage...”

He stepped forward and wove his hand through her hair. He wasn’t quite pulling- not yet- just gripping it tightly close to the roots. Eleanor gave a yelp of surprise and wriggled in his arms, her face a mask of disrespect and petulance.

“You’re a prize.” He twisted her hair so that Eleanor was forced to turn her head- and then he kissed her roughly, as she tried to escape him. Eleanor snarled at him when he finally pulled away, and he laughed to see the fury on her face.

That was what intrigued and infuriated her about Vane- he could be fierce and brutal just as easily as he could be cold and indifferent, or even sincere. He probably felt the same way about her.

“Pirate scum!” Eleanor growled, only half-pretending. He answered with another brutal kiss, and when she (gently) bit down on his lip, he (gently) grabbed her by the shoulders and pushed her down onto the bed. He climbed on top of her, and she strained against the ropes keeping her hands together. The smile on Vane’s face up above her betrayed no sign of guilt or hesitation, which Eleanor quite appreciated.

“Watch your tongue around your captor,” he said in a disdainful, almost teasing tone. “You never know what I might do to you.”

“I know very well what a man like you does to a woman in his power!” she insisted. Vane’s hands clamped down on her shoulders and the look on his face turned darker. Eleanor wasn’t sure whether to shiver or grin in response. Charles Vane was a dreadful man, that was a lesson she had learned time and time again, but damn if he didn’t have the courage of his convictions. He commanded respect whether he had earned it or not, something she had been fighting her whole life to be able to do, and here he was doing it to her.

When Vane took hold of her collar and ripped open the top of her shirt, sending buttons tumbling across the bed, Eleanor let out an involuntary gasp. She’d forgotten how strong his hands were, how easily he could push and pull her one way and another, with those calloused fingers against her soft skin. She remembered how those hands had felt trailing up her thighs, along her breasts, over the slope of her waist, and how he had once driven her to beg him for his touch over and over.

She wasn’t a romantic young girl anymore. She didn’t beg anymore.

“Just try and tame me, you brute!” Eleanor said again. It wasn’t begging but, she thought to herself as her skirt was thrown back, it had the same effect.


End file.
